“Do you know you come to the line of Eld?” Roland asked in that same curiously gentle voice. He stretched a hand toward Eddie, Susannah, and Jake. Even toward Oy. “For these are mine, sure. As I am theirs. We are round, and roll as we do. And you know what we are.”

“ Areyou?” Callahan asked. “Are you all ?”

Susannah said, “Roland, what are you getting us into?”

“Naught be zero, naught be free,” he said. “I owe not you, nor you owe me. At least for now. They have not decided to ask.”

They will,Eddie thought. Dreams of the rose and the deli and little todash-jaunts aside, he didn’t think of himself as particularly psychic, but he didn’t need to be psychic to know that they—the people from whom this Callahan had come as representative— wouldask. Somewhere chestnuts had fallen into a hot fire, and Roland was supposed to pull them out.

But not just Roland.

You’ve made a mistake here, Pops,Eddie thought. Perfectly understandable, but a mistake, all the same. We’re not the cavalry. We’re not the posse. We’re not gunslingers. We’re just three lost souls from the Big Apple who —

But no. No. Eddie had known who they were since River Crossing, when the old people had knelt in the street to Roland. Hell, he’d known since the woods (what he still thought of as Shardik’s Woods), where Roland had taught them to aim with the eye, shoot with the mind, kill with the heart. Not three, not four. One. That Roland should finish them so, complete them so, was horrible. He was filled with poison and had kissed them with his poisoned lips. He had made them gunslingers, and had Eddie really thought there was no work left for the line of Arthur Eld in this mostly empty and husked-out world? That they would simply be allowed to toddle along the Path of the Beam until they got to Roland’s Dark Tower and fixed whatever was wrong there? Well, guess again.

It was Jake who said what was in Eddie’s mind, and Eddie didn’t like the look of excitement in the boy’s eyes. He guessed plenty of kids had gone off to plenty of wars with that same excited gonna-kick-some-ass look on their faces. Poor kid didn’t know he’d been poisoned, and that made him pretty dumb, because no one should have known better.

“They will, though,” he said. “Isn’t that true, Mr. Callahan? They will ask.”

“I don’t know,” Callahan said. “You’d have to convince them…”

He trailed off, looking at Roland. Roland was shaking his head.

“That’s not how it works,” the gunslinger said. “Not being from Mid-World you may not know that, but that’s not how it works. Convincing isn’t what we do. We deal in lead.”